The Ibis and Death Itself.

As I, the one who can see,
the forlorn faces in front of me,
behind the rosebud hips I must be.

While, they ooze and reek,
I hide behind my beak,
with the intent to sneak.

The wailers groan in pain,
all my efforts are lost in vain
to see life in their eyes again.

The shadow of death arises,
to foe and friend alike,
their death, a heady type.

I push past their mutated mimes,
look upon their vital signs,
I, the symbol for trying times.

In the piles of carrion
I see before me,
a long and bleak path,
past the corpses that death has so vigorously imposed on.
His invasion is necessary,
but I am not his adversary.

I work to fight for life,
life that God has so precious made.
I bear the task of selecting the dozen,
while death does not bear pardon.

While he does the reaping,
I do the seeding,
preserving the crops
where the few dozen grow,
in God's goodly glow.

And so on I must go...

Memento mori

No Comm. Ship Detach.

This place is my tomb,
within a carcass,
cloaked with composite power.
The machine that men pride
Is the graveyard of a thousand
drops of tears.

The beast has consumed me,
and I've become it's working part,
as I was so destined to be
when I made the choice so foolishly.

Every day is exactly the same,
more misery
shrouding the yet to be,
tearing me apart gracefully.
With no shame,
only the same from day to day.

When I met him it seemed to be,
a place for my heart,
but then the beast tore him apart,
and now I sit alone
in the cloak of this composite machine.
Wistfully washing away every day
in the scalding shower
of my paranoid emotions.

"Will his soul return to me?" I spoke aloud,
as I bobbed like a buoy
on the effervescent shore of longing.
"Will his blue eyes grace me,
as they promised to do for eternity?"

Inside this machine,
I sit and wait,
noises rocking the tin can
in me, reverberating
at hyper sonic speed.
Shattering the peace within me.

So in this beastly thing.
I must wait to see,
the one who came to me
when choice had not
been as clear to me.

As the future is the present
and as decisions are made at the minute.
I see my fortunate flower
grow for him alone
among the salty sea
of the beasts made abundant
by man, a selfish dozen.